


Rifle

by La_Rata



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 16:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20799791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Rata/pseuds/La_Rata
Summary: k so basically i wrote this on my old windows xp and wanted to post it somewhere so herebasically this is likeafter you committed genocide run, then started a pacifist savethen he comes to visit youit's a soap opera type shit





	Rifle

I ran a finger through my bangs and continued the tedious task that is cleaning my rifle. My mind however wandered, though I did my best to keep a healthy train of thought. Like what I’m going to do after this, or what I might say next time I talk to someone in a few days. It’s all mush, because when I lose that thought, it wanders back to his face. Staring holes into my eyes, some would even call it a 1000 mile stare. I once knew a time I would’ve hated to see that look in his eyes, and I would’ve denied the idea that it was the consequence of something I had done.

The door to my home erupted with knocks, three. I snapped up and quickly shoved my gun down onto my bed next to me, striding over. I looked through the peephole, and there stood the man himself that kept plaguing my thoughts. He had a lazed look on his face, familiar to me and it almost made me relax. I turn and unlock the doorknob, pulling it back and letting an unconscious smile rip across my face. Despite all the guilt that’s built up behind it, I can’t help smiling at him. I can’t help how happy he makes me. He returns the smile, albeit is it intentional?

I step aside so he can come in, and he immediately starts looking around. He’s never been here, after all. Right? Wrong. But does he know that? If so, why won’t he goddamn say something? He turns back to me, still grinning and says, “Kinda small but whatever.” I don’t respond because my thoughts are still rushing a mile a minute. I watch as he ambles over to my bed, finally noticing the .50 caliber rifle that’s strewn across it like a pet. He whistles and I can almost imagine his eyes widening at the gun. Only when he goes to touch it does my body come back to life, only to step forward, reach out and say quickly, “It’s loaded, don’t touch it.”

So that was a lie. Why did I do that? I reprimand myself inwardly because I know that he sees the soap stained rag lying directly next to the gun, as if it were cleaning itself before he arrived. He only turned around to shoot a knowing glance at me, before picking up the shining weapon. He sticks his eye in the scope, and points the gun towards the open window. There’s a jay bird singing on a branch just outside, and he turns to me and says, “I’ll shoot it.” “No you won’t, stop messing with it.” He aimed with the scope again and said, “You’re a little worried. If the gun’s loaded then the gun’s loaded…” I huffed in disbelief and sputtered, “The gun’s not fucking loaded, stop it!” I stormed over and snatched the gun from his hands, glaring as coldly as I could manage. The bird had flown away at this point.

I put the gun down on my desk behind me and turned back towards him, not glaring anymore, yet neither am I still smiling. “What do you want?” I finally ask and he only shrugs. “I just wanted to check up on you…” He croaks, not breaking eye contact. My heart slowly falls to the pit of my stomach, for that’s the exact look that haunted my idle mind. He must see the apparent horror on my face. I’ve always wore my emotions on my sleeve. I’m shocked into silence, and he leaves me with the silence, seemingly enjoying just staring at my face. A tear slid down my face after a few moments. Then another, then I found myself stumbling for words. Guilt guided me throughout this pitiful display.

I lean against the desk behind me and desperately attempt to wipe away the oncoming water works, though it’s vain. I’m also trying to speak. Find the right words. My eyes flicker between him and everywhere else in the room, specifically the window. I notice he seems not a bit sorry for me. Stone faced. I finally manage a choked sob that sounds like an “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t respond, and soon the room goes back to silence with the occasional hiccup. He’s waiting for me to stop crying then. He wants a clean conversation. Perhaps a reason why? Closure? 

I don’t ever really stop crying, but my voice comes out clear after a moment. “What did you come here for? To kill me?” Without skipping a beat he said, “Yeah.” My eyes snapped over to him in an instant. I think my gullible nature gets to him sometimes, because when I look at him, he’s wearing a faint grin. I know in an instant that he was messing with me, and my face betrayed my emotions once again. “Stop fucking with me..” I breathe and sit down on my desk chair, spinning it to face him. I must look exhausted. His grin fades and he looks stoic once again. 

I lean forwards and rest my elbows on my knees, rubbing my dried tears into my face. He simply watches, waiting for a clearer version of myself. I knot my hands in front of my face and look up at him from across the small room. We simply stare at each other. My outburst must’ve not been anticipated. Maybe he thought I had lost all my humanity long ago, and seeing waterworks was the last thing he expected. Then what did he originally plan? For me to shoot him point blank between the eyes? For me to throw myself out the window? For me to not be the least bit guilty? 

“Look-“ He quickly shuts down whatever I was going to say with a “Sssh.” Oh. He just wanted to stare at me. He wanted to assign a face with the monster he had envisioned. Understanding this, I let him for a moment, stare at me. Get a good look at my crumpled figure. Enjoy my groveling while it lasted. Words escaped my mouth without permission. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He fought the wide grin that spread across his face, though it stayed anyhow. “Wanna start over?” He eventually asked in a low voice. I stand up and straighten out my shirt before looking down at him and saying, “Yeah.”


End file.
